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WORDS little-used in my world: ‘Fusion’. ‘Funky’. ‘Booty’. ‘Jelly’. And yet, and yet… tonight, at zumba class, we’ll be using them all liberally.

Zumba crept up behind us all and goosed us like a pervert last year. Originating in Colombia in the 1990s, it’s inspired cult-like fervour, blending reggaeton and variations of Latin dancing in an inanely upbeat, strangely brainwashy, supposedly sexual manner. For many, it’s clearly a great opportunity to breakout ’80s gym wear.

“We’re never gonna see these people again,” I reassure Ben and Natalie en route to Zumba World, before Natalie cunningly rolls her ankle and hobbles off.

The instructor wriggles around like an electric eel, but I can’t get the hang of this wobbling malarkey. Ben and I find ourselves ill equipped to shake what our mamas gave us – we’re more like ironing boards set to vibrate. In the jumpy numbers I feel like a grinning skull on a pogo stick.

The routines are fast, and range from unco children’s party flailing to x-rated hokey-cokey – I’m pretty sure our instructor’s making them up as she goes along. In fact, a future adventure might be to wear some undies over my tights, infiltrate a zumba class and lead it. To glory!
Keeper? Sure, next time the infomercial comes to my lounge-room.

Mission statement

Hey Man was a mission to reroute those rooted neural pathways and rewire my brain until it was lit up like a bloody Christmas tree – with potentially explosive fairy lights.

Author

Australia 2012. It's okay, we're friends.

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Previous months

Previous months

Can you teach me

How to:
* Crack a whip
* Vault an intersection fence
* Spin a drumstick
* Whistle with thumb and forefinger
* Flick a cigarette in and out of my mouth (hurry - I'm about to quit)
* Play canasta
* Play the spoons
* Chop wood
* Bake a decent loaf
* Pull some self defence moves
* Shear a sheep
* Irish dance
* Play dungeons and dragons
* Put on a faux lesbian routine in a pub near closing time